Chapter 3: Elena’s Account
I left my mother’s room with her words following me down the hall.
Someone you trust.
I wanted to ask who. I wanted to pull that notebook from its drawer and read every page until I found the name. But Isabella had said she wasn’t ready, and I had promised to listen when she was.
For once, I kept the promise without demanding an answer.
Rocco waited near the study door. His expression told me he had questions, but he didn’t ask them in the hallway.
“Has Elena said she’s ready to talk?” he asked.
“No. And we’re not going to ask until she decides.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
I found Elena in the garden room, the place she had chosen for herself and Mia. The courtyard door stood open, and the guard she recognized remained outside at a respectful distance. He didn’t block the way. He didn’t watch the room through the glass.
Mia sat on the rug with a wooden puzzle. When she saw me, she looked first at her mother.
Elena gave her a small nod.
Only then did Mia rise and come over.
“Uncle Lorenzo,” she whispered.
I crouched to her level. “Hi, sweetheart.”
She glanced at Elena again, then returned to the puzzle. I waited until she was occupied before speaking.
“Elena, you don’t have to tell me anything,” I said. “Not now, not later. You don’t owe me an account because I’m your employer. If you want help, you decide what kind. If you don’t want to speak with Rocco, he won’t approach you.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.
“What if I do want to speak to him?”
“Then you choose when and where. He’ll listen. He won’t question you about anything you’re not ready to discuss.”
“And you won’t be there?”
“If you don’t want me there.”
She studied my face, measuring whether the offer was real or simply another kind of instruction.
“I would rather speak to him alone,” she said. “But I want to know what you do with what I tell him.”
“Fair. We’ll agree on that before you meet.”
Elena looked toward Mia. Her daughter had fitted two puzzle pieces together and was trying to make a third one fit in the wrong place.
“Can I ask you something first?” Elena said.
“Anything.”
“Is the wedding still happening?”
The question landed harder than I expected. I could have said no. I could have told her the engagement was finished and watched relief—or fear—cross her face. But Isabella had taught me how quickly a powerful person’s certainty could swallow everyone else’s choices.
“I haven’t made that decision yet,” I said. “But Vivien will not be alone with you or Mia. And she won’t be allowed to pressure you into saying anything.”
Elena lowered her eyes.
“She said you would be angry if your mother embarrassed you.”
“My mother isn’t an embarrassment.”
“I know that now,” she said. “I didn’t know what to believe.”
I pulled a chair out, then stopped before sitting.
“Would you like me to stay?”
“Yes.”
So I sat across from her, leaving the space between us open.
Elena began carefully. At first, she spoke in fragments: a question from Vivien in the laundry room, a correction delivered with a smile, a warning disguised as advice. Each small incident sounded almost harmless by itself. Together, they formed a pattern.
“She started with the wedding,” Elena said. “She wanted me to tell you your mother had approved. That she was happy. She said it would mean more if the household confirmed it.”
“Did Isabella say that?”
“No. She told Vivien she wasn’t ready to approve anything.”
“And Vivien asked you to lie.”
“She said it wasn’t a lie if I was helping the family avoid an argument.”
Elena pressed her palms together in her lap.
“She told me you were under a lot of pressure. That if your mother made you look foolish in front of people, you could take it out on everyone. She said I should help keep the peace.”
I looked down at my hands. The old version of me would have called it manipulation and stopped there. A label was easy. Listening was harder.
“What did you do?”
“I said I couldn’t speak for your mother.”
“Then she threatened your job?”
“Not at first. First she told me how lucky I was to work here. How many people would be glad to take my place. Then she mentioned that families with children needed steady paychecks.”
Elena glanced at Mia.
“She always found a way to bring her up,” she continued. “Not every time. Just often enough that I understood.”
“What did she ask about Mia?”
“What time she wakes up. When I take her outside. Whether I ever let her walk ahead of me. Which door we use when we go to the courtyard.”
I felt the room narrow around the words.
“Did you tell Vivien?”
“I answered some questions because they sounded ordinary. People ask about children. She asked when Mia napped, and I thought she was trying to be friendly. Then she asked whether the courtyard gate stayed locked all day.”
“What did you say?”
“That it usually did. She asked how often the cameras were checked. I told her I didn’t know.”
Elena swallowed.
“I didn’t think about it until after the east-gate camera went out. I didn’t know it had gone out that day until I heard people talking. I don’t know who arranged it.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “We don’t know yet.”
She looked relieved that I hadn’t turned suspicion into certainty.
“Vivien asked whether the guards changed shifts on a schedule,” Elena said. “I told her they did, but I didn’t know the exact times. She laughed and said she was only curious. Then she told me not to make her regret being kind to us.”
Mia dropped a puzzle piece. It clattered against the floor.
Elena stopped speaking.
“Do you want to pause?” I asked.
She looked at her daughter, then shook her head.
“I want this written down somewhere she can’t reach.”
“Rocco can make a record of what you tell him. You can decide what you’re comfortable putting in it.”
“I want to meet with him,” she said. “Privately. Not where Vivien might walk in.”
“I’ll arrange it where you choose.”
“Tomorrow, after Mia’s nap. Here, if that’s all right.”
“That’s all right.”
She breathed out, a small release she seemed to have been holding for a long time.
“I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” she said. “I just want to be able to take care of my daughter without wondering if every question is a trap.”
“You don’t need to prove you’re trying to hurt anyone,” I said. “You’re allowed to protect her.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“And you’ll let me decide what protection looks like?”
“Yes.”
It was a simple answer. Keeping it would be the difficult part.
Elena’s gaze shifted to the open doorway. “I should check the staff schedule. I have to know whether I’m still expected in the dining room this evening.”
“You don’t have to work tonight.”
“I know. I’d still like to see what’s written down.”
She stood. I didn’t follow until she asked me to.
The staff schedule hung on a board in the service corridor, a neatly typed sheet with handwritten notes in the margin. Elena scanned it, moving her finger down the list.
Then she stopped.
“What is it?” I asked.
“My name.”
She pointed to the bottom of the page. Beside her name, someone had written: 4:00—Mia, east gate; walk with delivery staff.
Elena’s face had gone still.
“I never agreed to that,” she said.
May you like
The east gate was the one whose camera had been taken offline.
Neither of us moved toward the door. And beneath the altered entry, in fresh ink, was Elena’s name.
